Her voice wavered despite her attempt at boldness. She hated how her fingers trembled against her cloak, hated even more that his steady gaze made her feel both exposed and strangely warm.
He studied her for a brief moment, before understanding dawned in his eyes. It flashed across his features like a small, silent flame.
His mouth curved. “I see.”
“I doubt you do.” She drew a breath, tasting cedar and heat and the faintest trace of orange. It made her mind wander, and she dragged it back. “I have come to propose an exchange.”
“What sort of exchange?”
“You will give me money.” She kept her hands still, though they wished to twist in her cloak. “And I will give you my silence.”
He did not start. He did not bluster. He smiled a little, as if a riddle had arranged itself neatly into its solution. “You are direct. It suits you.”
His ease unsettled her. It lured her toward anger, and she could not afford anger.
“I am not here to suit you.”
“Then to suit whom? Yourself?” He cocked his head. “Or another?”
“That is not your affair to manage.”
He took another step closer, shrinking the space in which she might breathe. The green of his eyes was darker tonight. “What amount will buy your silence?”
She thought long about an amount that would purchase a carriage, a year’s rent in a northern town, food on a small table, and safety.
The number sounded thin in the air between them. “One thousand pounds.”
He did not flinch. “A bold request from a hooded stranger.”
It would be a drop in the bucket for you.
“A fair one.”
“Perhaps,” he conceded, as if he weighed fairness and found it equal. “Yet I will ask the obvious question. To what purpose?”
“The purpose is mine.”
“Then we are at odds,” he said. “I am generous, but I am not a fool. Why should I put a heavy purse in a lady’s hand when she will not tell me the reason?”
“Because you won’t have to worry about scandal if you do, and you will very much need to worry about it if you do not.”
He let out a low laugh, seeming very amused. “You mistake the scale, my dear lady. My reputation can silence more than you can shout. I can purchase theTimesand the gossip sheets outright. I can invite the publisher to supper. I can deny everything and be believed, because I am never careless.”
“You were last night.”
He inclined his head. “Indeed, I was. Which is why we are speaking like partners and not enemies. Yet I do not buy riddles.”
He waited. She refused to speak.
The quiet between them took on a pulse.
“Very well,” he said, after a small beat. The amusement faded from his voice. “You need money. I need assurance. I will make you a fair deal. I will pay you, and in return, you will give me seven nights.”
Gwen froze, her throat tightening.
“Seven nights,” he repeated, calm as a tutor setting a lesson. “My terms yield to your silence. Your silence yields to my terms.”
For a heartbeat, Gwen had the unreasonable sensation that the floor had tilted. The firelight blurred, then sharpened. She held herself very still, as if stillness could tame her astonishment.
